The Wren: Semi-lit All Species Assassin RP. Accepting

[Derelict Draught]

Malberry's footfalls slow as his absorbs the world around him. He had not been out for nearly as long as anticipated. The air lacked any scent of smoke and in the distance he could still hear firefights erupting. There must still be other Wren back at the cafe, that was the only explanation he could think of...Unless Booker was wounded. Cursing under his breath, the surveillance operative doubles back on his trail. The police were advancing, given the circumstances they may have already reached his destination. If so, things would become far more complicated.

Barring his mind against the pain that sung from his wrist and side, Malberry forces his body to move faster. Time was everything now. Unfortunately, time was one of the many things he lacked. Turning onto the street, his eyes dart to the SWAT team preparing to breach his empty sniper nest. The police were to heavily concentrated on downing the shooter to notice the foot-mobile speeding towards the epicenter of the chaos.

Diving through the storefront, Malberry's jaw locks as his body protests the impact. Momentarily muted, he scans the dining room for any Wren. The dining room seemed mostly abandoned, several wounded and dead lay about the peppered environment. Three signs of life stand out against the bleak setting. One target and two Wren. He'd have plenty of questions for Veridius later. "We need to move, NOW." As he speaks, he grabs for Booker's arm. "The hit is off, so if you two are coming, you had best keep up."

[paula polestar]

Booker scrambled to his feet, groaning slightly as Malberry pulled him along. The remote was tight in his grip; the chance of losing it once again was slim to none. "With everybody screaming into my earpiece all the time, it'd be a surprise if I didn't know that. Blasted volume always make my ears bleed...," the vampire groggily complained. Even with his slightly childish toan, the man didn't protest as he was dragged out of the half-wrecked cafe. It wouldn't take much to blow the place to smitherines, Booker silently noted. The coffee house would msot likely be in shambles after the explosive went off. Even if the bomb was localized, it would probably be enough to finish of everything, as well as everyone, inside.

{Is Veridius with Booker and Malberry, or is it just them two? /bad roleplayer, worst comprehension/}
{On another note, for those of you who celebrate anything this time of year, have a wonderful holiday~ ::::D}

[Derelict Draught]

((Veridius is AWOL but was in the cafe with his brother Marcus/Flint. As of this point, Master Quatre has kept them there.))

[blue_dun]

((Yeah, I'm waiting for the place to blow, Veridius and Marcus are still there.))

[Derelict Draught]

Malberry hurriedly drags the injured vampire across the street ever alert for the police and their lines of fire. The officers were nearly done clearing the building he had taken position in and a few of the men at the entryway were preparing to move on the cafe. With a groan, he slams the vampire's back against the wall of an alley well out of the blast radius. In a single movement he releases the vampire's shoulder and turns his hand palm up. "Give me the detonator."

His eyes dart over the vampire's wound as his injured hand fights the pocket on his leg fishing for the concealed blade. "How long until you're sealed? More importantly how much blood do you need." Successfully fishing the weapon from the hidden sheath, he rests the edge of the blade gently against his palm. "You'll need to take the sewer to get out with the rest, I'll do what I can to lead them away from the airport and your trail."

Closing his eyes, he gently presses the sharpened blade into a vein in his palm and angles the weapon to allow the blood to flow to the hilt where the vampire could feed without risk of infection. Even in his current state of infirmity, the task was a necessary evil just as so much of the plan ahead. With any luck he might be able to detonate the explosive before the police entered the cafe and therefore avoid any unnecessary casualties. Even had he been in peak condition, the run for the dock was long and foolish. A perfectly acceptable appearance for the police.

He really needed a new career. One where he didn't get shot would be great...Just not a driver. "One more thing. When you see Bree, tell her that the accent was adorable."

[Derelict Draught]

A second explosion in the parlor draws the Templar from his inspection of the concealed door. The mercenaries lay sprawled about the the ground, some wounded and some dead. No doubt the dolts had triggered some Wren trap. A blur of motion passes through the damaged wall. Three pairs of playing cards lodge themselves within the structure. Two aces glue themselves to his armor, one on the chest, the other on his arm. The room about him became a see of light and fire before he was violently wrenched from his feet and through a wall. For the briefest moment, the armored creature spiraled through the air before crashing into the street outside.

There he lay, his body seemingly shattered by the impact. Screams and cries echo from the building as the mercenaries within slowly regain their sense only to witness the damage done to their comrades. In the panic, one of the newer members makes a dash for the door. The street offered a greater chance of survival than the ruined parlor. As the man reaches the doorway, a heavy armor bars his path clotheslining him and leaving him staring at the armored figure above him.

Having instantly gained the attention of the semi-conscious men within, the figure grasps the arm that hangs limply at his side, his hand wrapping about the scorched fabric that covered the limb as he forces the dislocated shoulder into the socket with a loud pop. Without testing the newly repaired limb, the man walks into the structure. His free hand produces a small dagger with a clear hilt. Even as he draws near, the men only see the liquid shifting within the weapon. Each new what awaited them if they dared to desert. The alternative of death was far more pleasurable than the eternity of servitude the contents threatened.

Absently, the man grasps one of the injured by the collar of his vest and drags him across the floor. Without the slightest sense of feeling, the creature hurls the man against the concealed door. His orders were simple. Breach. Plant. Finish. Even before the man had turned to the dining room, the other mercenaries were clearing the dead from his way and taking defensive positions within the wreckage. They knew nothing of the attacker. They only knew that seeing the Templar leave them was a blessing. A pity for the fool who dared to anger him.

Standing in the destroyed wall, the monstrosity studies the area before him. The attacker had not gone far, no...He would have stayed if only to antagonize the attackers long enough for the Wren to rally. Not far from the parlor, a chair sat, clearly disturbed if even only for a moment. The change was recent. More recent than the panicked crowd which had fled so readily. Yes...This is where the boy 'arrived'. Pushing off the rubble pile, he slowly advances on his quarry, eager for the meal awaited him upon his return.

[Verdana]

[Sorry its' taken so long! Please let me know if I've missed something.]

// On the Botched Job//

Slowly but surely, assassins began to trickle into the sewers. Bree greeted them with grunts and gestures that grew less and less taciturn as the numbers rose, until she was even greeting assassins with words. However, she did not relax. Not completely. There were still missing members. Joel. Malberry. Booker. Her team in particular worried her. She had a duty to them. She had a duty to the other assassins, too, and so she called for transport. By the time Kaylee arrived, bleeding and shaking, Bree was ready. She turned to the injured woman.
Transport is coming. Follow the sewers, stay left. There'll be a boat which will take you to an island. We'll get out from there. The skipper of the boat will be a young-looking man. Sandy blonde, green eyes, gold canine, left on the bottom jaw. Tell him that Bee sent you, he shouldn't give you any trouble. He's a friend. Gather the members, get to the boat. I'll be back.

She turned around, and started heading back up the sewers. She couldn't leave her team to die. She had to find them, had to get them out before the police arrived. Curse Malberry and his ridiculous disguise! Curse Amigo for going along with it! She should have known not to trust her father's crony with an important job. They were clowns. Fools, the whole lot of them. She'd have to go and assist her assassins on her own. She was always on her own. Always had been, since Vee had died.

She popped open the manhole cover, and poked her head, and her gun, cautiously out into the street. It was deserted, the panicking crowds having cleared off long ago. Nothing was in her immediate vicinity, so she leapt nimbly out onto the street and started to run. Her gun out in front of her, she fired deft shots at the few things that even looked suspicious. There was a commotion around the cafe. Bree fervently hoped that her people were not in the building.

They weren't. She turned a corner, and there they were, in the alleyway. Three of them: Booker, Magma and the infuriating Malberry. She arrived just in time to hear his comment, and scowled.
I am not adorable, she declared, her hands on her hips.
She looked around.
Where's Joel? And the rest, where are they? She wasn't sure what to do. It was clear that she had to get her people away.
Then she had an idea. She didn't like it. She turned pale (or, at least, paler than usual).

Three people. She'd taken a passenger before, but it hadn't been easy. A single passenger had almost killed her. Bree was not a natural flitter, unlike the rest of her family. She hated it. However, she needed to get her people out, and get them out fast, and she could only see one way to do it.
She swallowed.
Malberry. Look at me. Is Joel inside there? If he is, I have to get him out. Then I'm going to come back, grab you, and you are going to detonate, grab me, and try to keep all your bits together. I'll have enough trouble with all of you as it is. But first, where is Joel? Where are the rest of them? I can't blow him up.

Then she noticed the blood running off of his knife.
And what in the name of the gun are you doing with that knife? Put it away.


//Back at HQ//

In the darkness, a very tall man and a petite woman stood, listening to the clank and clatter as armed men tried to break into their sanctuary. Shaygrin was as tense as a cornered cat. Ty, on the other hand, was oddly relaxed. He put a hand on his mother's shoulder.
Relax, Mum, he said.
It's okay, really. My doors are impenetrable. They'll never get through!
Just then, there was a particularly loud 'boom'. A red light started blinking. Ty frowned slightly.
Well, maybe in a couple of years, he revised. Another crash sounded, another light went on.
At least six months, he said, but his voice was beginning to lack conviction. Shay had heard enough. She took her son by the arm, and dragged him towards the armoury.
Come, she growled.
What are you doing? Ty yelped, following meekly.
Taking them by surprise.

...

The armed men worked at the door with silent intensity. They were professionals, and did not mess about. Although the door was remarkably think and cleverly boobytrapped; spraying acid and shocking workers, amongst other things; they were making good progress. Nonetheless, it would take them a few more hours to break through the door at their current rate. They worked harder. Their boss wanted the occupants of HQ dead and buried, and they were more than happy to oblige. However, suddenly the door began to shake. Sparks flew. It grated on its hinges. The men stood back, astonished and slightly bewildered. They watched, weapons drawn.

There was a creak and a groan, and the door keeled over.

Before they had time to respond, to rush in, to commit slaughter, a figure rose through the dust. A more unearthly sight had never been seen. Covered top to toe in scaly metal, and with a blinding light upon its head, it looked like a monster from a legend. The men drew back, blinded, and with a guttural roar, the creature went to work, slamming a huge metal rod into whatever it could find.

Although Ty was a pacifist, hours spent lifting engines singlehandedly had equipped him with an impressive set of arms. Still, even his gargantuan swings would not have killed the men he hit. However, tucked neatly behind him was his mother, armed and sleek. With attention on Ty, few opponents looked her way, and those who did were swiftly executed with a shot from her silenced gun.

Shay was very cautious. She only shot when the sound of Ty tossing an enemy through the air would mute her gun. That way, very few of the assailants noticed that she was there at all. They began to recover their wits, and shot at the behemoth in front of them. The bullets clattered off of his metal skin.

With Ty bludgeoning men to smithereens and Shay shooting them to stop them getting up, they slowly began to work their way through the team.

[If I've made an error, please let me know and I'll edit it.]

[Tundra]

Kuar was jumping rooftop to rooftop with the grace only a cat could match. Oddly for him actually being such a large person, he easily twisted his body to move around obstacles and basically anything that got in his way. Malacia's men? well most were laying dead on rooftops or in streets. It was about now that the once clear sky decided it was time to rain. The clouds moved in slowly and started releasing their burden down on the team. Kuar paused at the edge of the roof of a building looking down on the area in which the team had been originally. The water streamed down, unrelenting, as if to clean up the bloody mess this whole thing had caused. Kuar watched as the water mixed with blood, streaming it down off the rooftops, or down the streets and into the drains. It was about then that Kuar said into his com piece "Best be moving fast, the water will rise in the sewers before you know it causing you all even more trouble."

He spread his wings and looked at the damage that had been done to one. He sighed remembering the past, how he was once in a fight for his life, with a slightly damaged wing, with the rain poring down on him and the one he was fighting. He smiled, chuckling. O how those had been easier days, nothing to have to worry about as you took lives and no one could track it back to you. Kuar missed those days, most of all missed his old partner. But this was not the time to reminisce on the past. Kuar had to do something about the fact of Bree sitting there, with three of her crew in the street. He jumped down landing with a splash almost right next to Bree, and, if he hadn't said "You seriously are not thinking what I Think your thinking..Flitting? really Bree?" Someone probably would have shot him. Kuar sighed following up his words with "Most of Malacia's crew is dealt with, but you still have those who evade even my blades. We need to move, or were trapped. Malacia probably already sent a crew in to deal with me alone...."

He ground his teeth slightly in thought. Malacia knew a bit about him, and probably could do some damage with those she had at her disposal. He then looked at Bree saying "I should ask what you plan to do, after all you seem to have some daring plan for an escape...tell me..if you do Flit, why not ask for help from someone else who can?" He flicked his tail as he looked at Bree. She did indeed remind him of Shay, but the more pressing question on his mind was...who the heck had gotten lucky with Shay? He didn't want to ask Bree really, since she still had this..disliking of him. Then again it was understandable, he had held a blade to her neck. He examined Malberry and Booker, both seemed to have, some sort of injury...Then again Kuar recognized the injury on Booker and held back a chuckle at his own handwork. He then looked back at Bree waiting for an answer.

[Derelict Draught]

((Going to hold off on the alleyway until Commoner can get a post in.))

He was a patient creature. Enjoying the simple joys of life. Walking. Reading. Eating the flesh of the living. Nothing particularly special about his lifestyle save his occupation. The sole contradiction, the ultimate irony of his existence. The lumbering monster fulfilled the role of the speedy assassin. Today, he seemed to favor his more natural unnatural approach, taking a seeming eternity to advance on his prey. As he walks, he takes in the entirety of his environment, the sounds, the smells, the image of every disturbed piece of food. Yes, his prey had only been a recent arrival, in the rush the fool had left a trail in the debris. Just around the corner now...

As he had strolled, the men had worked diligently. Ignoring their injuries they had managed to place a number of explosive loads...that is when they had finally realized that the door was behind the cabinet that they were initially thrust upon. A slight murmur had passed about as they wondered about the Templar's knowledge. Not wanting to anger their CO, they set upon the door, laying the required explosives with precision. The first trap cost one of the men his arm, the acid spray had been to his side. The corrosion was almost instant, burning through his flesh within seconds. The acid would have cost him far more had the vest he wore been standard issue. The Templar had equipped the squad with just enough armor to cover their vitals.

Screams and gunfire corrupt the silence of the world surrounding the monster. Breaking only his ears from the hunt, the Templar stands still. Cracking bone announces the Wren's foolish assault. Perfect. Shaygrin had stayed true to expectations. With a gentle flick of his wrist he exposes a concealed button within the hilt of his dagger. At the lightest of touches an electric pulse travels to the end of the blade, resonating at the tip. The signal overrides the activation frequencies for all explosives within range. Those the mercenaries have brought, those within the now unshielded Wren HQ, even the high yield explosives he'd packed into the body armor he distributed among the mercenaries.

All according to plan. He pauses a moment to allow the signal to reach even the deepest of weapon stockpiles. A callous sneer breaks the mask of his face beneath his helm. He could imagine the confusion of the mercenaries within the parlor as the vests that had preserved their lives so well began to hum, boosting the signal. He allowed himself to revel in the foolishness of the men, believing he cared about their lives. They were meat. Nothing more. His eyes remain locked on the spot where his opponent still hid. The fool had believed himself to be saving the Wren. He had failed to even stall their demise. With a second press, the streets flooded with smoke and dirt as the building that once served as home for the most elite of the world's assassin's sank into the ground.

[Tundra]

[[I should note Civilian that, why the heck would Wren members keep active bombs in the open? and not a sealed protected room that could withstand a bomb exploding..not to mention hundreds...would Ty really be that careless?...*lets Verdana answer that*(Since shes the one in charge of that stuff)]]

Twisted wasn't surprised when he saw the man stand again, and just, relocate his shoulder. O how that sent chills down his spine. The man was heartless, cold, and probably couldn't feel pain. Which, left Twisted in a bad situation. Though, he was a sly cat, able to appear and reappear without notice even without his cards. So, he slipped into the shadows once more, using them to his advantage as the..for lack of a better word creature was distracted. He moved with ease, three cards flying from different places in the building at this creature, each one hitting its mark. To one without magic, they, just looked like bladed cards. But, soon after hitting their targets, all exploded in a flash, making it so Twisted could move again without hindrance. It was like a game of cat and mouse, and, Twisted would keep it up. He actually had no care for the building, or headquarters of the Wren. No, his concern really was the members within, and it appeared that most were out of town as of right now.

TF chuckled, his voice seeming to be everywhere at once as he said "Lady luck is smiling" at that six cards flew from the shadows again, all fanned out, all lodging themselves into the armor on the mans body. Twisted couldn't help but laugh in this situation as the joker landed squarely on the mans forehead, the purple mist swirling around him and then in a flash, teleporting him away. Now, Twisted had decided the location, and, to say the truth he should have placed the man further. But instead the man was only teleported to the next town over, about a 50 mile walk if one decided to walk. The other cards activated almost right after he was teleported, flashing and causing explosions of sorts. They were mostly yellow aura, so the man would have to stay put for a bit. Twisted looked at the cards in his hand and smiled, the ever shifting faces of the cards would confuse someone normally, but, Twisted himself knew how to play the cards right.

[[hmm..i have this feeling i should edit this to seem less godmoding..but, i want to see what you have to say Civilian]]